


Hung Up

by Lanternhill



Category: Ring of Honor
Genre: M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-24 10:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15628572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanternhill/pseuds/Lanternhill
Summary: Dalton comes across a distressed Adam Page one night and tries to help him, which leads to a secret affair.





	Hung Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beedekka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beedekka/gifts).



Dalton ran a hand through his wet hair and got ready to head out. As usual, he was the last one left. The other guys paid no attention to proper skincare. He heard sniffling behind one of the shower curtains. Apparently, at least one other wrestler remained in the locker room. He weighed the costs and benefits of ignoring it or saying something. Goodness knew it wasn’t the first time he came across one of these overwrought boys crying over wrestling. Personally, he was blessed with something rare in professional wrestling—emotional regulation. His softer instincts won out and he coughed politely. They could always tell him to fuck off.

“You okay in there?”

“Fine. Bullet Club is fine.”

Whatever was happening with that group did not meet Dalton’s definition of fine. The voice belonged to Adam Page. Interesting. Dalton didn’t take him for the overemotional type. He was the strong, silent, devastatingly handsome type. Apparently, Bullet Club drama drove everyone over the edge. Dalton blamed the black as well as the skull and guns look—it made the guys puff up and posture. Jewel tones would do them a world of wonder.

“We must have different definitions of fine, but okay.” He started to walk away and then walked back, pulled by sympathy. “I’m going to grab some food if you want to join me.”

Adam’s face peered over the shower curtain, his hair slicked back from the water and a droplet teetered on the edge of his nose. That face met Dalton’s definition of _fine_. He looked suspicious.

“You want to get food with me?”

“Really, I’m just looking for someone new to regale with my cat stories.”

“You won’t put anything in it.”

“The food? No.” The poor guy clearly needed non-sociopathic friends.

“Okay, give me a minute.” 

Adam’s hand reached out for the towel hanging over the curtain rod and he stepped out with it wrapped around his waist. Never let it be said Dalton didn’t appreciate an attractive, naked man, but he politely looked away while Adam changed. He also politely kept his mouth shut about the ill fitting jeans and black t-shirt.

“Have you ever considered navy?” Dalton didn’t want to scare Adam by suggesting an emerald or turquoise straight off.

Adam looked confused. “Joining the navy?”

“That too. Come on, let’s go rustle up some food.” 

At the restaurant, Adam was clearly forlorn. He poked at his food with a fork and mushed it around.

“So, you want to tell me what’s wrong or do you want to continue to build a mashed potato castle?” Dalton asked. Dalton knew what was wrong of course, but he thought it best to ask before launching into a lecture on the ills of hanging out with people who thought Hot Topic was cool.

“Hypothetically, have you ever fought with your best friends?" Adam asked.

Hypothetically? What was the point of trying to pretend like everyone didn’t know their drama? They might not watch their show, but other people did.

“I have had the occasional, exceptionally rare, not at all frequent disagreement with a friend. I’m generally lovely to be around.”

“Never mind.”

“Go on,” Dalton said. “I can be a neutral party.”

Adam scoffed at that. Scoffed! There were few things Dalton hated more than being scoffed at. 

“Or let’s say I dislike all feuding parties an equal amount.” That wasn’t quite true—Dalton didn’t care one way or the other about Kenny Omega, who was a nonentity in Dalton’s Ring of Honor, but he wanted Adam to open up. He looked so sad and it tugged at Dalton’s very long heart strings.

“I hate all the fighting among my friends,” Adam said. “I know Cody is being a little difficult.” _Psychotic_ , Dalton corrected in his head. “But, Kenny is putting some old flame above the rest of us. That’s not right.” He hung his head down. “I just want things to be like they were before.”

“When things were so loving and wholesome? I’m sorry Adam, but isn’t fracturing kind of the Bullet Club’s thing? I know your tenure hasn’t been that long, but have you already forgotten about the _other_ Adam?”

Adam scowled at Dalton. “It’s different! We’re a different set of guys. We’re family!”

It was clear that logic was not going to work. “Well, there’s only one thing to do,” Dalton said.

“What?”

“Get drunk.”

Adam looked more happy than he had all night at the notion.

* * *

Dalton woke up on a hotel room couch with a headache and Adam drooling on his shoulder. Had they? No. Although, he remembered a long, drawn out, quite stupendous kiss on this very couch. He was entirely glad nothing further had happened as he didn’t want to get mixed up in any of Adam’s current mess. However, he shivered with the memory of Adam’s whiskey tasting mouth on his. Mostly glad, anyway. Sympathetic as he was, Dalton was not so sympathetic as to fraternize with what amounted to the enemy. He gently pushed Adam away and went to the bathroom to try to salvage his face after a night of excess drinking.

When he emerged, Adam was up, blinking blearily. “What time is it?”

“Around ten.”

“Shit. I was supposed to meet Cody for a workout at eight.” He rubbed his eyes. 

“There’s one advantage to waking up so late.”

“What’s that?”

“Not having to wait for brunch.”

Adam smiled at him. Oh no. Dalton’s stomach fluttered treacherously at that slow smile. He ought to kick Adam out. 

“Let’s order us some mimosas and french toast,” Dalton said. Adam was shy and sweet, and flirty in the morning not quite after. As promised, Dalton told him all about his cat. He managed to look interested the whole time, which won over Dalton even more.

At that night’s show, Dalton paid the Bullet Club much more mind than he usually did, which was usually close to none if he could help it. Something about Adam drew him in. He looked glum still, things obviously remained tense within the group. As Dalton stretched before his match, Adam sidled up. He looked up and down the hall to make sure nobody was around.

“Hiding from the fuzz?” Dalton asked.

“No, I just.” Adam lowered his voice to a whisper. “You want to get a meal after the show?”

“You make it sound positively criminal. Getting food never seemed so illicit.”

“Not everyone needs to know my business,” Adam said. Was Dalton his business? The idea intrigued him, which in turn worried him. Damn his weakness for sad, good-looking, blue-eyed men from Virginia who used to teach middle school. “That was the first fun night I had in ages.”

“Okay. Meet me at the Panera on 10th. I’ll be the mysterious man in the fedora and trench coat.”

“Paneras close too early. I’ll meet you at Denny’s.” Adam hightailed it out of there before Dalton could respond. Denny’s! The sacrifices he made. If he was going to engage in ill-advised meals he wanted them to at least be some place classy like IHOP.

At their dinner date, Adam talked a lot, surprising Dalton. He mostly kept quiet in stark contrast to his buddies, but then who could get a word in edgewise with that lot. He also flirted some over their bad steaks. Dalton knew where this was going. He was exceptionally perceptive. It was such a bad idea, but Adam’s neediness appealed to him. Dalton liked people looking up to him, depending on him. And Adam looked good even in the bad lighting of Denny’s, which spoke well of him.

Dalton sighed. “I wish I didn’t know what your thighs looked like.”

Adam almost choked on his food. He recovered. “You interested in seeing the rest?”

“Absolutely.”

When they got to Dalton’s hotel room, Dalton immediately set to finding out whether that drunken kissing was as good as his fuzzy memories indicated. He led Adam to the couch and kissed his neck and jaw before moving to his mouth. After several minutes, his head went fuzzy again, not from alcohol, but from the way Adam’s hands moved along his back and sides.

“Please, can you…” Adam said.

“Hmmmm?”

“Please. Suck me.”

“So polite.” 

Dalton moved off of where he lay on Adam to sit back on his legs.

“Just so you’re warned, it’s a lot to take,” Adam said.

Dalton resisted rolling his eyes. He didn’t think Adam would appreciate it in his vulnerable state. “I can handle most of what life throws at me.” His bravado was cute really, Dalton thought. He unzipped Adam’s jeans and pushed them down along with Adam's underwear.

“Oh. Oh my. That. Okay.” He found himself unusually incapable of coherent speech.

Adam didn’t even have the courtesy to look smug. Not one to be daunted, Dalton started with the head—that went in easy enough. To his consternation, he found that there was no way he could deep throat that thing. Well, he would just have to practice. He did love a challenge.

They fell into a pattern after that night. Dalton endured poor meals for the warmth of Adam’s smile and company as well as the benefit of putting his considerable flexibility to nonwork use. Adam enjoyed their time together, but his eyes never quite lost the sadness. Dalton vowed that he wouldn’t interfere. He kept that promise about as well as the one to show his cat who was boss.

* * *

At a taping, Dalton saw Cody and Marty hanging out alone and couldn’t resist. As he approached them, Marty started checking his phone, obviously shunning him. Dalton resisted sticking out his tongue and talked to Cody instead.

“You could stand to look out for your friends better.”

“What are you talking about Castle?”

“Adam Page is moping around here.”

Cody looked sharply at him and Marty was paying full attention now.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He has been positively chipper lately,” Cody said.

Dalton tucked his hair behind his ear.

“Well.” He loved to take credit, but realized now was not the time. “I just worry about the newer guys.”

Cody turned that cold dead stare on him. “You need to worry about yourself.”

Dalton wasn’t surprised when later on during his match, Cody and Marty attacked him. They were both gunning for his title and today’s little encounter probably gave them some extra motivation. What did surprise him and allowed Cody to land a punch in his gut was Adam doing a run in. 

For one brief, shining moment Dalton had the wild thought he was running in to save him. He was quickly disabused of that notion when Adam floored Punishment Martinez, his opponent of the night turned temporary ally. Adam ran toward him. He hesitated and it gave Dalton a glimmer of hope. He was angrier because of that glimmer, the abbreviated joy that was quickly dashed when Adam swung at him with a lariat that Dalton easily dodged. Outnumbered, Dalton and Martinez managed to escape the ring and make it to the back.

Adam had the nerve to text him about meeting up after the show as usual. Another man might ignore the text and hence any unpleasantness, but avoiding scenes was not Dalton’s MO. He thrived on scenes.

_Come to my room_ , he texted Adam.

Five minutes later, Adam knocked weakly. Dalton yanked the door open.

“Explain yourself!”

“Look, I'm sorry, but I had to pretend.”

“Pretend? You almost took my head off.”

“I deliberately missed on purpose. I just had to make it look like I was attacking you.”

“I’m not sure I believe that. have excellent reflexes!”

“Not that excellent.” Adam looked immediately contrite as Dalton’s eyebrows went wild at the insult. “They were on my case after you talked to them, wanting to know what was going on. You shouldn't have said anything to them. I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Didn't ask? You were basically wearing a sign that said, Someone take care of me, all of my friends are serial killers, I dress poorly, and I’m a sad, lost little boy who needs help.”

He shoved Adam outside his room. He didn't want to see his pretty face. Dalton slammed the door to dramatic effect. He heard faintly,

“That wouldn’t fit on a sign.”

He hated to ruin a good ending, but he hated not to get the last word too. He cracked the door open. “It depends on the size of the sign. And how small you write!” He slammed the door again and turned on the TV, not wanting to hear any response.

Adam’s eyes got sadder and more anxious as the days went by, but Dalton kept firmly away. He deleted every text and phone message Adam sent him. He should have blocked his number, but the begging gave him a kind of sick happiness.

Adam managed to corner him at a taping.

“I told them that I’m not getting involved again. It’s already the two of them against one anyway.”

“How noble.”

“You’ve been the one bright spot in these past few months. I don’t want to fuck that up.”

Dalton’s iciness thawed, but he remained tough. “Too late.”

The next night, Dalton could only groan at Cody and Marty going after him again during his match. This time, Adam running out too was no surprise, but it filled him with enough fury to fight off Cody and Marty. He was going to suplex them out of the building. But wait, Adam went for a clothesline against Cody! The crowd gasped while Dalton almost swooned. A dramatic public gesture was just the kind of thing to win him over.

As they ran an astonished Cody and Marty out of the ring, Adam smiled that smile at him, removing any kind of sense and reason from Dalton’s brain.

“Denny’s again tonight?” Adam asked hopefully when they made their way to the back.

“IHOP or nothing.” If Dalton was going to give Adam another chance, he wasn’t going to settle for second best. That night, Dalton showed his appreciation to Adam a few times over. Reality crept in afterwards as they lay there, exhausted, together.

“What are you going to tell them?” Dalton asked.

“Hell, everybody is always attacking everybody any way in our damn group. They’ll get over it in a week.”

“You should stick with me.”

“I’m not sure I qualify. I’m not fanning you. Ever.”

They would see.


End file.
